My Secret Mother's Day Wish List
By Gwen Moran
When I see those Mother's Day commercials where Dad and the kids show their appreciation for Mom with big, chunky gemstones, bouquets of flowers, or pounds of dark, luscious chocolate, I know that not one of the people who produce those touching vignettes has ever cleared green slime out of a child's stuffy nose. I would also bet that none has had an infant spit up pureed sweet potatoes on her designer jacket, or experienced the blood-chilling terror of a walking in on a toddler who managed to reach and swing from the dining room chandelier in the time it took to get a juice box out of the fridge.
Reporting from the front lines of motherhood, I can honestly say that I have no use for any carat that isn't good for my family's eyesight, or bouquets that make my sinuses ache. Plus, any chocolate sampler that gets opened in my house is gone in one sitting - and that's not allowed on either Atkins or Weight Watchers.
Instead of expensive tokens of appreciation, my secret wish list includes a dozen things that would never be featured in a 30-second commercial, mostly because of FCC regulations. These are the things I really wish my family would give me for Mother's Day (in addition to the glitter collage made in school, of course):
1. Poopy Diaper Amnesty: Actually, I'd like to avoid contact with anything sticky, stinky, or slimy, including the refrigerator door handle, the floor of my SUV, and whatever that congealed mass is at the bottom of my daughter's backpack.
2. Shower Power: Not the kind with lots of presents - I'm talking about the kind with hot, steamy water. And soap. And time enough to shave my legs without looking like I've just starred in a Wes Craven slasher flick.
3. Silence of the Clan: Give the new drum set a rest. Lower the volume on the 1,876th screening of "The Lion King." (And if I ever find the person who gave us the mini fire engine with realistic lights and siren, I can't be held responsible for my actions.) I need sweet absence of noise without the worry that only very bad things happen when it's so quiet.
4. Roll-over Minutes: It could be an extra half-hour with the bed all to myself or a lazy afternoon nap. I'll take any opportunity to lie horizontally with both eyes closed and no elbow, foot or Chicken Dance Elmo jammed in my back.
5. One Clean Thing: A toilet, a sink, or a child that got clean without me would be a Mother's Day miracle. Actually, I don't need even need "clean" - I just need "won't cause Grandma to faint when she visits."
6. Potty Time: Some may have visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads, but my dreams include using the facilities with the door closed and no one knocking, calling my name, or forcing the dog to play dress-up in my absence.
7. Phone Alone: I may not be able to complete a conversation which isn't made up of sound bytes that fit in between "Get down from there," "Stop it," and "I'll get it as soon as I'm off the phone," but I'd sure like to try.
8. Drive Bye: Boy, I'd love one day where I don't have to be the family chauffeur. Even those nerves-of-steel NASCAR drivers would crack under the pressure of navigating the Parkway with a screaming toddler who might, at any second, bean him in the back of the head with a Barney and Friends board book.
9. Peace Meal: It could be supper at home or even a burger at the local fast food joint - just let me have one meal during which I can finish my food in a single sitting without someone licking the ketchup off of my French fries and putting them back on my plate.
10. Remote Control: Some time alone with the television would be nice, even though I'm not sure I know any shows that don't have big red dogs, multicolored monsters, or purple dinosaurs in them.
11. Room to Groom: From taming the wild brush of my un-plucked eyebrows to filing down the too-tough heels of my feet, I'd like the chance to look like a civilized human again. All I need is a brief window of opportunity and a small supply of health and beauty products.
12. An Unsolicited Hug, Kiss and an "I love you, Mommy." Okay, that's three things, but when delivered as a package, without a roll of the eyes or a begrudging "Oh, alright," it's the most satisfying gift any mother can get.
Although time alone in the bathroom is a close second.
